


Why Didn't You Love Me Back?

by neon_lights21



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Crying, Fainting, Fluff, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Mystery, Panic Attacks, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2020-09-01 15:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20260306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neon_lights21/pseuds/neon_lights21
Summary: They start falling sick, one by one, like petals being plucked out of a flower.





	1. Jeong Yunho: Spontaneous Pneumothorax

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a simple, self-indulgent hurt/comfort one shot. I have no idea how this fic happened. I also want to apologize for the medical inaccuracies that this fic contains.

Dance practice was going normally. The only sounds that echoed through the room were the heavy stomping of feet and Yunho counting their steps to guide them through the routine. Everyone was panting and beads of sweat were flying off in every direction.

It was all normal.

Yunho continued counting as they turned around on one leg and landed on the other one. Just as he was about to put down his right leg, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest, making him lose his balance and stumble forwards. He landed on his knees and used his hands to break his fall, muttering a curse under his breath as another wave of pain seared through his chest. He took a deep breath, but it only worsened the pain. It didn’t help that his heart was beating fast from all the dancing and his body begged for more oxygen. Yunho plopped himself into a proper seating position, massaging the left side of his chest with his right hand.

“What happened?” Seonghwa asked, kneeling beside him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Yunho said, trying not to breathe in too deeply. “I think I pulled a muscle or something.”

Seonghwa nodded, helping him up with Mingi and guiding him to a corner of the room where he could sit with his back against the wall. Yeosang handed him a bottle of water. He closed his eyes, sipping the water, and took another tentative deep breath, but this time he felt like he was being stabbed in the chest. The pain made him lurch forwards and sputter the water out, causing him to start coughing and every breath he took to cough felt like someone was poking a sharp metal rod in his chest. By the time he was done, tears had pooled in his eyes.

Seonghwa squeezed his shoulder as he flopped against the wall and leaned his head against it. The whole left side of his chest hurt and he just couldn’t breathe. All he could manage were gasps that became shorter and shorter each time.

“Yunho? Hey open your eyes,” he heard Hongjoong say from the other side of him with a certain urgency in his voice.

“I can’t-” he gasped, gulping the thickened saliva in his mouth. “I can’t breathe.”

Yunho didn’t miss the concerned looks everyone exchanged. He clutched his chest tightly as he furrowed his brows and curled in on himself.

“Let’s wait for a few minutes and see if it goes away on its own, alright?” Seonghwa said, patting Yunho’s arm. “Try and take a deep breath.”

“No, I _ can’t _ ,” Yunho said, eyes still squeezed shut. “My chest hurts when I breathe.”

“Do you need to lie down?” San asked, magically appearing in front of him.

Yunho shook his head. His hands were starting to tremble. He stayed there for five minutes, trying not to pay attention to the worsening pain in his chest as Seonghwa and San sat next to him, the others choosing to stay away to give him some space. Hongjoong and Jongho were long gone to go and find their manager.

It wasn’t getting any better and Yunho was starting to get scared. It didn’t feel like a simple pulled muscle. It shouldn’t have hurt to breathe or speak if it was just some muscle pain. He opened his eyes, seeing lights dance in front of his eyes. He felt lightheaded from all the short and useless breaths he had taken over the course of the past five minutes. The whole left half of his body hurt.

Left…

But there was no way…

What if it was a heart attack?

Now that he thought about it, his symptoms were actually starting to make sense. Chest pain was never good news. Chest pain on the left was even worse news. His hands were clammy when he reached out for the nearest person, who happened to be Seonghwa. He was busy talking to their manager about something.

When had he even got there?

“Hyung,” Yunho said, grabbing Seonghwa’s arm. “I can’t breathe. I- I think I’m hav- having a heart attack.”

That seemed to get everyone’s attention as everything went silent and they all turned their faces to him.

“What are you talking about?” Seonghwa asked, his eyes widening as he took in Yunho’s pale face covered by a thin layer of sweat. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t have a heart attack.”

“No, no, listen to me,” Yunho gasped for breath, clutching Seonghwa’s arms so hard it made him flinch. “My chest hurts. It’s on the left. And I can’t breathe and it hurts s-so bad hyung and I feel so dizzy right now.” He blinked, and a few tears rolled down his cheeks. “I think I’m dying,” he said in a small voice.

His whole body trembled as he slumped forward in Seonghwa’s chest, but the elder pushed him back against the wall.

“Don’t do that. It will make it harder to breathe,” Seonghwa said in a gentle voice, brushing a few strands of hair from Yunho’s forehead. “And you’re not dying. We’ll take good care of you. You’re going to be okay in no time.”

Yunho shook his head fervently, even though the movement made everything spin around him. He closed his eyes again. He could hear voices frantically talking next to him, but he couldn’t place who was actually speaking, so he stayed there, not letting go of Seonghwa’s arm for a second.

“He needs a hospital _ right now _ .”

“Should we take him ourselves?”

“We don’t have time for that. Look at him! Just call an ambulance.”

Time seemed to blur by and after what felt like a few seconds, there were unfamiliar people surrounding him, putting a stinky mask over his face and attaching beeping machines onto him. Then they lifted him, forcing him to let go of Seonghwa. He tried to sit up as his breathing became more erratic, but he was strapped down to a gurney and wheeled away from the practice room. 

He didn’t want to die alone. These people would take him away and make him leave his members and force him to die alone in a hospital with no one to keep him company but total strangers who didn’t care about him. Tears escaped the corners of his eyes. He didn’t want to leave everyone like this without even saying goodbye.

He felt a warm and familiar hand running through his hair.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Seonghwa said, smiling as Yunho focused on him. “It’s going to be okay.”

Well, if Seonghwa said so, then it _ was _going to be okay, even if he was at the back of an ambulance feeling like his chest would burst any second.

He closed his eyes, focusing only on Seonghwa’s hand in his. He didn’t open his eyes when he felt the warmth slip from his hands. He didn’t open his eyes when they wheeled him in the emergency room, letting doctors probe him and ask him questions. He didn’t open his eyes when he mumbled something unintelligible in response.

He only opened his eyes when he felt something cold against his chest, making him shiver.

“What’s he doing?”

“He’s putting in a chest tube,” Seonghwa said, frowning. “He already explained it to you.”

“Oh he did?”

Yunho raised his right hand to rub his face. It felt weird. He felt weird. And that motherfucking thing hurt.

“Hyung please! It hurts!”

“I know, but it will make you feel better soon.”

Better? The pain was even worse than before. How was that supposed to be better?

He stared down at the plastic tube sticking out of his chest. He had never been a squeamish person, but the sight of the foreign object being wiggled around by the doctor made him feel queasy. He closed his eyes until the doctor told him that he was all done.

“We will have you in the hospital for at least a week,” he said. “Because we need to make sure that your lung heals completely and it doesn’t collapse again. I’ll leave you to rest now. Please don’t hesitate to get someone if you need something.”

As the doctor closed the door behind him, Yunho turned to Seonghwa.

“That was pretty disgusting, wasn’t it?”

* * *

“You brought me a book?” Yunho said, looking at the book’s cover with disdain. “‘101 Best Pick up Lines’? Seriously? What is wrong with you Wooyoung?”

“You said you were bored,” Wooyoung shrugged, “and I thought it would be funny to you.”

“It’s not like I have too much of a choice either,” Yunho said, begrudgingly. “I’ve been stuck here for five days and I’m starting to become desperate for something interesting to do.”

“Does it hurt?” Yeosang asked, pointing to the tube.

“Not if I don’t move the wrong way.”

“The things you do to get a week off…” San said, shaking his head.

“Hey!” Yunho laughed, throwing popcorn at San’s head.

The first two days, he had been thankful that he could sleep as much as he could, for as long as he wanted to, but the novelty quickly wore off after he discovered that he didn’t have anything to do. It was strange going from having his day jam packed with activities to lying around and scrolling through his phone all day. The only thing that made his hospital stay bearable was the visits from the others. They made sure that at least one person came to visit him every day, and it made something warm spread in his chest.

“Shut up,” Wooyoung said. “We all know you secretly wish it was you so you could sleep for a week and do nothing.”

“Are you… defending him or insulting him?” Yeosang asked, tilting his head.

Yunho bit his lip, trying not to laugh. That was going to be an interesting night.


	2. Jung Wooyoung: Migraine

Wooyoung opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness. He sighed as he felt a dull, yet intense ache in his head, making him feel nauseous. He peeled the covers off his body, stumbling to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He looked in the mirror, tracing the dark bags under his eyes with his fingers as water dripped down his chin. He really did look like a zombie with those bloodshot eyes. He almost poked his eyes in surprise when there was a loud knock on the door.

“Hurry up!” Jongho said, his voice muffled behind the door.

“Y-yeah, just a second,” Wooyoung said as he quickly dried his face with the first towel he found.

He opened the door and made his way past Jongho, muttering an apology for taking so long. The smell of scrambled eggs hit him hard as soon as he stepped in the kitchen. It made his stomach do somersaults as he picked out a glass to make himself some tea. He would have chosen coffee, but he was in the mood for a cup of warm and soothing tea.

“Good morning,” Yeosang said.

“Morning,” Wooyoung muttered, trying not to breathe too much. He could literally smell the grease in the air.

As soon as his tea was ready, he sat down next to Yunho, and started munching on a biscuit. He didn’t have much of an appetite but he knew that he couldn’t take any painkillers on an empty stomach. Another wave pain rippled through his head and Wooyoung dropped his biscuit on the table, letting his head fall on his outstretched arm.

“Are you okay?” Yeosang asked, lifting his head from his phone.

“Just peachy. I have a headache,” Wooyoung groaned, pushing himself into a proper seating position.

“We still have some painkillers,” Yunho said, “do you want me to get them for you?”

“No, it’s fine, thanks,” Wooyoung said, standing up when an idea came to his mind. “Can I take yours?”

“Did your headache fry your brain?” Yunho asked. “You can’t take them. They’re not over the counter pills.”

Wooyoung sighed. “Please, I feel like I’m dying.”

“You could die for real if you take my painkillers.”

“So, so dramatic,” he muttered under his breath, stomping his way to the kitchen cabinet where they kept their medicines.

He popped three pills at once, chugging them down with a gulp of water before going to his room to get dressed. He hoped the pills would kick in soon enough because his head was starting to feel like a lead ball weighing down his neck.

* * *

Wooyoung opened the window in the van, letting the fresh air take away some of his nausea. He still felt quite uncomfortable, though. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a position that would lessen the ache in his neck, but nothing seemed to work. Eventually, Wooyoung fell in a weird place between sleeping and being awake. He could still hear the muffled conversation going on around him and he felt every jolt and movement of the van, but his eyes were seeing another thing.

_ He was sitting on a bed in a small room that wasn’t his. There were clutters of books and sticky notes all over the place, and the only free space was a desk with a computer on it. It was displaying a page with red and black images, with some strings of text attached to them, but Wooyoung could only make out blurry shapes. He looked down at the bed. One of their albums was sitting on the covers, with the CD shattered and the case broken. The photocards lay in shreds on the bed. _

_ Suddenly, he was standing in front of the bed. A high pitched scream pierced the air and the world crumbled around Wooyoung. Between the flashes of debris flying around, Wooyoung saw a figure hunched over the bed. They looked like they were crying with how their shoulders heaved up and down. _

_ And then blood spurted out of all of their limbs, painting the white walls of the room a sticky, bright red. _

_ Wooyoung screamed. _

He woke up with a jolt, his heart hammering in his chest and sending waves of throbbing pain through his head. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“We’re here,” Hongjoon said, squinting at Wooyoung. “Yeosang told me you have a headache. Are you feeling better?”

“Not really,” Wooyoung mumbled, pressing the back of his head against his seat.

“You could stay back for a while if it gets too bad,” Hongjoong said.

“I’ll be fine, I think.”

Wooyoung had never been so wrong in his entire life.

Each beat of the bass felt like a hammer hitting his temples as he stood in the recording booth. He could hear their producer speaking through the microphone, telling him to try and sing his part again. Wooyoung nodded, but as soon as the track started again black spots started clouding his vision and no sound came out when he opened his mouth.

“Sorry,” he managed to grunt, yanking the headphones off his head and letting them fall to the floor.

The room spun around as he doubled on his knees, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt bile rise up in his throat and he couldn’t do much as he gagged and vomited all over the floor. He fell to the ground, next to the disgusting puddles of digestive juices as he heard the door open and frantic voices speaking to him. Wooyoung blinked, trying to clear his vision, but all he could see was black. He let himself be guided to his feet, leaning all of his weight on whoever was holding him up. He felt like he was floating in the air as he started walking, eyes still closed.

When his vision finally cleared, he found himself on the couch in the studio, with their manager hovering over him and speaking to Hongjoong in a hushed voice.

“We’re going to take you to the hospital just to be safe and make sure nothing serious is going on,” their manager said.

Wooyoung nodded, taking the uncapped bottle of water from Hongjoong’s hand and sipping it slowly. Apparently, it was the wrong move because as soon as he moved his head, he felt like knives were being shoved into his temples and he almost poured the whole bottle all over himself.

He wobbled on his legs on the way to the car, almost throwing up again due to the sounds around him. He was thankful for the eye mask his manager handed him before starting the car. His head would probably have exploded in a glorious manner if he kept his eyes on the bright sunlight.

The trip to the hospital was quite short and uneventful, and Wooyoung got out with a prescription of painkillers and rest after the doctors were done probing him and asking him questions.

* * *

“I was hoping they would keep you in the hospital so I could bring you that book,” Yunho said when Wooyoung stepped into the living room.

He rolled his eyes. “I knew you should have given me your painkillers. The doctor gave me the same ones.”

“It’s not my fault that your body hates you,” Yunho said, putting down the magazine he had been skimming through.

“Oh please,” Wooyoung said, walking towards the couch and draping himself over the armrest. “Let’s not forget that your lung shrunk to the size of a freezer bag not even two weeks ago.”

“On second thought, maybe you do deserve to read that book,” Yunho said, throwing a cushion at Wooyoung’s head.

“Make me,” he snickered.

“I will. We’ll be home alone tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have any idea what's going on? No? Me neither!  
I would love to hear your opinions and maybe even some constructive criticism on my writing so if you have a spare moment, please leave a comment!


	3. Choi San: ???????????? Acute ????????????? Hypertension ???????????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS I'M BACK

When San said he hated the world, it was never for dramatic effect because that day he actually, genuinely hated everything in his life. He wondered why in the world he had to get sick when Yunho and Wooyoung still hadn’t recovered enough to return to their schedules. Two members out was pushing it. Three was unthinkable. So San had to push through for the sake of the group, even if that meant dancing when he felt dizzy and practicing those pesky notes so much that his chest felt bruised from the inside. 

But it was all worth it.

Or maybe not, as he felt like he was glued to his seat in the car and he couldn’t get up. His eyelids felt heavy and he felt like someone was beating his head with a hammer. He only heard voices coming from far away before the sweet release of sleep finally claimed his extremely tired consciousness.

When they finally arrived home, San practically levitated towards the couch in the living room. Usually, it felt quite uncomfortable, but San felt like he was lying on the softest feather mattress in the world when he dropped down on it face down.

After what felt like two seconds later, he felt someone shaking him, saying something he couldn’t be bothered to decipher. He cracked an eye open begrudgingly, blinking a few times to clear his vision, which didn’t cooperate, so he tried to tell that guy - whoever he was - to speak a little bit louder because for some reason, all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ear rhythmically interrupted by the annoyingly loud pulsating sound of his heartbeat. Just like the rest of his body, his mouth didn’t cooperate with him either. He only managed to let out a pathetic groan, feeling his dry tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, and he turned his head, letting his eyes close while he abandoned himself to the horrible headache that had built up around his temples.

There was something on the tip of his tongue that he needed to tell someone, but he couldn’t exactly remember what it was or who he was even supposed to say it to. Even just thinking about it made his head hurt. 

He sighed.

There was just something… something…

Something…

Some…

***

_ He was standing in the middle of a field, squinting and putting his hand on his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. The grass field extended as far as his eyes could see. Despite its simplicity, the view was breathtaking. The colours were so vivid that San felt like he was inside a painting. _

_ He turned around and spotted a tree far away. Its roots were protruding from the ground, twisting around its thick trunk to form several curves around the tree itself. San’s feet took him there before he could distinguish the silhouettes sprawled between the roots, which were tall enough for a person to hide behind completely. _

_ Something wasn’t right.  _

_ As soon as San stopped under the tree, colourful flower petals started falling off its branches, even though there were no flowers or blossoms on in. They came from deep inside the ancient tree, and they disappeared before touching the ground. San raised a hand and caught a petal between his fingers. As soon as he touched it, the yellow petal turned into a crimson red and blood started dripping down its edges. _

_ Slowly,  _

_ drop  _

_ by  _

_ drop. _

_ He approached the tree slowly and almost tripped when he saw the others lying between the roots of the tree. Some were covered in blood, others were shaking and clutching the wood as if they were asking for forgiveness for their sins. _

_ A cold wind sent chills down San’s bones and he turned around to face the direction from which the wind was blowing. A swirling cloud of pure black was approaching him quickly like a tornado, taking over the sky and replacing the warm sunlight with cold darkness. San panicked. The darkness was approaching him fast and it was taking away all the light like a blackhole, leaving him blind and bound to a tree. He looked down at his feet that were being swallowed up by the tree’s roots. He tried to free himself, but the more he struggled, the tighter the wood became around his ankles. Something wet grabbed his arm and pushed him down. _

_ “You need to sleep,” Jongho whispered. He looked like he had bathed in blood. _

_ San's breath got caught in his throat at the sight of blood caking Jongho's whole being as he looked at the cloud. It would reach him any second now. _

_ Instead of the darkness San was expecting to engulf him, he heard sobs and screams. Images of torn pictures and smashed mirrors flashed in front of his eyes. He closed them shut in an effort to get rid of them and pressed his hands against his ears to block out the horrible screams.  _

_ And they finally stopped. _

***

“Fuck,” San muttered, as it was the only fitting word he could say as he trembled all over.

He was covered in sweat and he was panting like he had just run all the way to his parents’ house and back. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he finally managed to sit up despite his whole world tilting to one side as soon as he was sitting upright.

Oh yeah and he was thirsty.

He stumbled his way to the kitchen, hitting every single piece of furniture on his way. He hoped that by drinking water, he could magically heal all the aches in his body and cure his breathing, which he couldn’t tell whether it was because of his nightmare or a horrible disease. Yes, breathing in the energy of water. The power of mother nature thriving inside of him.

He held on to this glass of water tightly, afraid to drop it on the floor, but the glass managed to slip away from his not so iron grip when he turned around again to go back to the couch. Something exploded in his head, ears, eyes, all of his body. There was a ringing in his ear and his vision went black for a moment. when it came back, he wondered why the floor was coming towards him.

In a moment of clarity, San realized that he was the one dropping to the floor, so he put his arms out in the hope of breaking his fall. His arm made contact with something cold and wet. It was dark, he was tired and everything was spinning again, so he didn’t bother to open his eyes  _ again _ to see what that thing that felt stuck in his arm was.

He just wanted to sleep.

Another rush of blood to his ears, some other voices, some sounding worried, some sounding like his name, but San had just had enough of it all.

There was a beeping sound coming from somewhere next to him. San lifted his arms. Bandages were covering his right arm while a plastic tube was sticking out of his left arm. He giggled.

Oh well. At least he could sleep.

***

_ Now why the fuck am I in a car now? I just wanna sleep man. _

“Sleep then.”

_ Oh I didn’t know car seats could speak... _

***

When he opened his eyes again, he was at home. 

“Welcome to the club,” Wooyoung whispered, grinning at him like a fucking murderer.

San groaned in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally finished this chapter... it's not my favourite but I needed something to get me back to writing... (gotta love the online lessons where I can pretend to listen and write fanfiction on my laptop)  
hope you enjoyed it!  
let me know what you THINK is going on here because i'm starting to see a pattern hehe


	4. Kim???? Hongjoong????? Food ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ Poisoning¿¿¿¿¿

Hongjoong rested his head against his porcelain saviour, trying not to think about how dirty it was. The cool surface was a nice change from how hot and suffocated he was feeling. He gagged and his stomach twisted into knots, but there wasn’t anything left in there to make its way into the toilet bowl.

He squinted his eyes as Seonghwa entered the bathroom.

“Are you done?”

He groaned. “Please leave me alone. I want to die in misery peacefully.”

“You can do that in your bed.” He extended an arm towards Hongjoong. “Here, get up.”

“No, I’ll take a shower first.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I won’t be able to fall asleep being this gross anyway.”

For once, he wasn’t exactly right about himself. As soon as he stepped into the shower, the steam made it so hard to breath that he had to sit down or else he would collapse. And probably hit his head and die, which was certainly dramatic, but way better than how he was feeling. He scrubbed his body with aching arms, still sitting in the bathtub. When he was done, he turned off the water with a sigh and stepped out of the shower. His breaths became ragged again as he moved to reach for his towel and dry himself with the little energy he had left. He dragged himself to his room and dropped himself on his covers. Judging by Seonghwa’s snores, he was already fast asleep even though it was only half past ten. Now that Hongjoong thought about it, Seonghwa had been very tired lately. He buried himself under his duvet with a sigh. All of them had been tired and sick lately.

_ Hongjoong glanced at his hands. They were see-through. _

_ Interesting. _

_ He turned around when he heard a girl’s voice behind him. _

_ “He loves me back. They love me back. I know it.” _

_ “You don’t seriously believe that, do you?” _

_ “I’ll prove it to you!” _

_ The girl stormed off in her bedroom. Hongjoong followed her. _

_ “I will prove to everyone that he loves me back,” she whispered. “I just need to get started.” _

_ She opened a drawer and threw out a few albums on her bed. They were too blurry for Hongjoong to make out from where he was standing. He was stuck to the wall in front of her bed. He shifted uncomfortably as the girl threw a can of paint over the wall and, by extension, Hongjoong. _

_ “Hey!” he shouted. “What are you doing?” _

_ She didn’t pay any attention to him. Instead, she grabbed another can of paint and threw it straight at the wall. It exploded, and Hongjoong was showered in more paint. It dripped into his nose and mouth, making him gag. There was a crashing sound, and Hongjoong wiped his eyes to see what all the commotion was about. He winced when the girl threw a huge paintbrush straight at him. _

_ “Would you stop throwing things at me?” he shouted impatiently.  _

_ If she thought she was being cute, she was fucking wrong. _

_ “This is disgusting. What are you trying to do?” _ _   
_

_ The girl didn’t respond and threw another huge paintbrush square into Hongjoong’s stomach. He cried out and doubled over in pain. Then his world tilted and he was standing face to face with the wall, right next to the girl. _

_ “What is that?” he asked, gaping at the huge tree she had drawn just by throwing paint and paintbrushes at the wall. _

_ She whipped her head around, her eyes widening when she finally saw him. She stumbled backwards. _

_ “Oh, are you-” _

_ Hongjoong didn’t finish his sentence as she let out a blood curdling scream. _

He gasped and fell out of bed as his stomach twisted painfully. Clutching his torso, he crawled over to the bathroom. He hoped he wouldn’t throw up on his way there.

“Oh, fuck me,” he whispered as he rested his head against the toilet for the eleventh time that night.

His face felt numb from how nauseous he was feeling, but he was unable to just vomit his intestines out and put himself out of his misery. He stayed there for what felt like hours until he felt confident enough that he wouldn’t fall over the moment he stood up. He grabbed the sink to steady himself as he stared at his pale face in the mirror. Shaking his head, he splashed a bit of cold water over himself, hoping to freshen up a bit, before heading back to his room. Thankfully, no one had woken up due to his commotion. He groaned in pain as he hugged his pillow and fell into a restless sleep.

Someone was shaking him. “Hey,” Seonghwa said quietly.

Hongjoong grunted, rubbing his eyes to get a better look at Seonghwa. “What? Is it morning already?”

“Yeah. Are you feeling better?”   


“I am, actually.”

For once, he really was feeling better. It was a great change to not lie about his well-being.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “With the way you were hurling last night I thought you would be bed bound for a week.”

“I know, but I slept well last night. I don’t feel as bad.”

“I’m glad.” Seonghwa patted his shoulder. “What did you eat yesterday? We might have to throw it out if it was food poisoning.”

Hongjoong frowned. “I don’t know. I ate the same things as everyone else.”

“Oh well, then let’s just hope you don’t get sick again.”

“Yeah.”

Seonghwa had jinxed it. There was no other explanation for how utterly awful Hongjoong was feeling at five in the evening after feeling fine the whole day. He was shivering even though he was cocooned in three blankets in their living room, which was always the hottest room in winter.

“Do you want something to eat?” Yeosang asked.

Hongjoong blinked and exhaled deeply. The thought of food itself was revolting.

“No.”

_ She glazed a knife over her stomach. _

Hongjoong gasped and jumped to a seating position.

“Are you going to throw up?”

_ She screamed as blood oozed out of her skin. _

“Here, hold your head over this.”

Hongjoong shook his head. He didn’t want to see blood. He didn’t like blood. He didn’t do well with blood.

“Get out of these blankets. You’re burning up.”

_ She cut another line through her stomach. She screamed, but the pain was worth it. _

“Get away,” Hongjoong whispered.

He pushed Yeosang away and fell to the floor. The pain flaring in his arm suddenly made the world just a bit more clear.

“She was- She was bleeding,” he said, grabbing Yeosang’s arm.

“What?”

“She was bleeding, and there was this wall… with the tree… and I was there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The wall had a tree on it. She said… she needed to prove something to everyone…”

“Alright, why don’t you tell me about it later? Close your eyes, okay? We’ll take you to the hospital.”

Hongjoong shook his head. “No, you don’t understand…”

“Tell me about it when you feel better, alright?”

“Okay…”

Hongjoong closed his eyes.

“It appears you have a severe case of dehydration along with a very high fever.” The doctor cleared her throat. “Next time you get sick, do something about it earlier. You might save yourself a trip to the hospital.”

“Of course,” Hongjoong said, face burning in shame.

“What are you even doing? I see one of you here every three days!”

“Oh, we’ve just been really unlucky lately.”

“I see.” She squinted. “Well, you’re good to go then. That is after the nurse takes out your IV. Make sure to drink lots of fluids, and come back if you don’t feel any better in the next few days.”

“Yes, thank you doctor.”

She nodded in acknowledgment before leaving the room.

“She’s scary,” Yeosang whispered.

“I know,” Hongjoong whispered back.

“Here, it’s tradition now,” Yunho said as he threw a book into Hongjoong’s lap.

“‘101 Best Pick up Lines’? I didn’t know you were still salty about that.”

“Read it,” Yunho said. “Suffer with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is lowkey becoming crack please help me i can't take myself seriously anymore  
btw 2k hits????? MORE THAN 100 KUDOS?????? what world is this? i would have never guessed that so many people would be reading this and i'm so flattered :') thank you for bearing with my snail paced updates!!!  
what's up with google docs correcting hongjoong to Hong Jong? >:( it's literally painful to see


	5. Choi Jongho: legs?????

“It wasn’t supposed to go this way,” Jongho whispered to himself as he wiped the endless smudge of mud from his boots. “No, I was just supposed to go for a walk, but nothing ever goes my way, does it?”   


He sighed and leaned back on the wall, next to their rack of shoes. The smell was killing him. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating a little. If the smell of feet didn’t kill him, then his soaking wet clothes would. There was literally a puddle of water under and around where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He would have to mop it later, as if cleaning the mud and dog shit off his boots wasn’t enough. Even after that, he would have to take a shower and clean the shower, because no one wanted a bathtub full of mud and dog shit.

Of course, it hadn’t been Jongho’s intention to go for a late night walk just to get caught under pouring rain instead. He hadn’t brought an umbrella with him, because the damn weather forecast said clear skies very clearly. But Jongho’s fate was the opposite of clear and immaculate as he had managed to somehow trip and fall right into a puddle of mud and dog shit after the weather forecast had betrayed him.

A scream made Jongho jump into the air and scream in turn. He instinctively threw the dirty boot in the direction of the noise while holding up the rag he was cleaning it with. The boot hit the target and fell down with a ugly thud.

“Dude!” Mingi and Jongho both exclaimed in an indignant voice at the same time.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked.

“Cleaning my boots,” Jongho grumbled as he recovered his discarded boot. “What are you doing sneaking up on me like a fucking murderer?”

Mingi leaned down to wipe the dirt off his pants. “I thought  _ you _ were a murderer,” he said. 

Jongho didn’t look up, but he knew him well enough to know that his eyebrows had most probably disappeared in his hairline. He continued to wipe his boot a little more forcefully than before when Mingi didn’t move.

“Where were you this late at night anyway?”   


Jongho sighed. It took all of his self control not to snap at Mingi. It wasn’t his fault that the weather forecast had been wrong after all.

“I went for a walk.”

“Under that rain?”

Jongho stopped scrubbing and raised his head just enough to stare at Mingi’s knees. A conversation with Mingi’s legs wasn’t doing his already sour mood any favours.

“I know, okay?” Jongho said as evenly as he could. “There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky when I went out and it wasn’t fucking supposed to rain.” He was becoming tachycardic and he was not about to stop his rambling. “I went out like I always do. I checked the weather forecast like I always do, and it said clear skies, but since the universe hates me, it started to rain. And as if that wasn’t enough, I tripped and fell into a fucking puddle.” Jongho sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck. “Sorry,” he continued in a quieter voice. “I just… I’m done with this day.”

Mingi hummed in acknowledgement and lowered himself so he was sitting next to Jongho. “Do you need any help with that?” he asked, pointing to the boots.

Jongho shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m almost done anyway. Thanks though.”

“Well,” Mingi said, eyes moving up and down as he took in Jongho’s figure. “Go take a shower once you’re done with your boots. I’ll clean this mess up.” He motioned towards the ground.

Jongho felt the tension sip away from his shoulders and he almost melted into the ground. “You will?”

“Of course,” Mingi said with a smile.

“You,” Jongho started, “are my saviour. I could give you a piggyback ride right now!”

“I think the rain leaked into your brain.”

“Yeah, maybe, but seriously, thanks,” Jongho said. “Not a lot of people are willing to clean up a trail of mud and dog shit after their friends.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Jongho placed his clean boots on the shoe rack and pushed his hands against the floor to get up, but as soon as he stood up, his right leg went limp and he almost fell face down into the mud again. He grabbed Mingi’s shoulders to steady himself and cursed under his breath.

“Woah,” Mingi said, catching Jongho to steady him. “Are you okay?”   


“Yeah, my leg fell asleep.” Jongho detached himself from Mingi and sent him a look that meant bloody murder. “Don’t even think about it.”

Mingi stared at him with a faux offended expression. “I was totally not about to tell you to wake it up.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Jongho rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I’m heading for the shower. Thanks again for helping.”

* * *

The next day, Jongho felt much more human. In fact, he felt normal enough not to ditch Yeosang on their grocery shopping trip.

“But Yeosang,” Jongho said as he leaned on their shopping cart, “ask yourself, ‘Do we really need three different super sized bags of chips?’”

Yeosang looked at the shelves with longing in his eyes and put back two of the bags. “Probably not,” he said. “We still have a bag or two at home.”

“Exactly,” Jongho said, nodding in approval.

“But they look so good…”

“I told you to eat before coming here.” Jongho waved a finger in Yeosang’s face. “I might not be able to stop you next time.”

Yeosang sighed. “Yeah, I know. Come on, we still need to get…” He glanced at the shopping list on his phone. “Milk, cheese, yogurt and we’re done.”

Jongho hummed and pushed the cart towards the dairy aisle. Once they were done, they headed towards the self checkouts, but a huge red X over all the monitors told them that they were out of service. Grumbling under their breaths, they walked towards the endless line in front of a disheartened cashier.

“Would you stop that?” Yeosang said, visibly annoyed.

Jongho gave him a confused look. “Stop what?”   


“Tapping your foot. It’s annoying.”   


“Oh,” Jongho said. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “Sorry.”

He looked down at his legs. He had stopped tapping his foot, but his legs were still trembling, like they did when he walked or exercised too much. But he hadn’t done any strenuous physical activities that day. He couldn’t even feel his legs moving on their own.

Yeosang tapped his shoulder, motioning forward with his head. It was their turn. Finally.

He forgot about his legs for a while, too busy putting their things inside their shopping bags. He patted his pockets for his wallet. For a moment, he couldn’t find it and he was about to send Yeosang a panicked look when he finally located it in the deepest pocket in his jacket. He closed his eyes in relief. When he opened them, he was on the ground, with his wallet lying a metre across him.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” the cashier asked, already standing up from her chair.

Jongho blinked in confusion. “Yeah,” he said. “I… I’m not sure what happened. Sorry.”

He stood up with Yeosang’s help. His legs still felt weak, so he clutched the handle of the shopping cart until his hands were white, pointedly ignoring Yeosang’s worried looks. He said he was fine whenever Yeosang asked him if he was alright, but he still had to sit down a few times on their walks home. Walks were becoming cursed for him. Next time, he would just spend an extra hour at the gym instead of walking home with two grocery bags and two unstable legs.

* * *

“Why aren’t you moving?” Mingi asked, throwing himself on Jongho’s bed.   


Jongho’s hand stopped mid air, still full of popcorn, as he glanced up from his laptop. “I don’t feel like moving,” Jongho said.

Mingi stretched his arm to steal some popcorn from Jongho’s bowl “You’ve been in bed all day, though.”

“So?” He swatted Mingi’s arm away, who still managed to steal his popcorn. Curse his long limbs.   


“You never stay in bed all day.”   


“Well now I do,” Jongho said as he finally paused his movie.   


“Is there something wrong with your leg?”

“No.” Jongho tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Why?”   


Mingi crossed his arms. “Because I think there is.”

“You think wrong. Can I chill in peace now?” Jongho dusted off his salty fingers. “Also, tell Yeosang I know he always snitches on me.”   


“He wasn’t snitching. He’s just worried. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Jongho,” Mingi said in his don’t-bullshit-me-right-now tone. “This is serious. Half of us are sick or injured in some way right now. I know it’s not an honour to contribute to that tally, but please tell me if there’s anything wrong.”

Jongho looked at Mingi for a few seconds before sighing. “I don’t know,” he said. “My legs feel weird.”

Mingi raised an eyebrow. “Weird how?”   


“I don’t know.” Jongho put his bowl on the nightstand before turning to Mingi again. “They seem to be falling asleep a lot more than usual.”   


“Uh, compressed nerves maybe?” Mingi scratched his chin, causing Jongho to roll his eyes.   


“Remind me again where you got your degree in medicine.”

“No, but seriously,” Mingi said, “do you need to go to the doctor?”   


Jongho shook his head. “I don’t think so. At least not right now.”

“Tell me if it gets worse.”

“Alright.”   


Jongho resumed his movie when Mingi finally left him alone. At some point, he fell asleep, but he didn’t remember falling asleep. He did, however, remember waking up from a nightmare, drenched in sweat and almost hyperventilating. 

Normally, he would calm down upon realizing that his nightmare was just a dream, but this time, he could still feel the tickle of blood running down every surface of his body, down his head, chest, legs, and unto the ground. The screams still buzzed in his ears. He wasn’t sure if they were his or someone else’s. Even though he couldn’t remember the contents of the nightmare itself, he still felt like half of him had been chopped up. He couldn’t feel his legs. It was like there was only air underneath his waist. He scrambled to push away his blanket and he was relieved to see that his legs were still there and looked normal. He tried to wiggle his toes, but he couldn’t connect his brain to his legs. He couldn’t feel the hand he was running up and down his right leg, neither could he feel the pinch that left his skin red and awaiting a bruise. 

There was no fucking way he was letting his stupid legs with their stupid nerve endings stop him from eating breakfast. Jongho moved his right leg to the ground with his hand and did the same thing with his left leg. He pushed himself up with his arms. For a second, he stood triumphantly and smirked, but his smile faded quickly when his legs gave out and he felt himself descend towards the floor. He used his arms to break his fall, but he still fell on his chest and had the wind knocked out of him. He coughed and sputtered the fuzz back onto the carpet. 

Right, so plan A had failed. It was time for plan B. He grabbed the leg of his bed with his left hand and pushed himself as far as he could.

He let out a triumphant noise when he grasped the door handle. He twisted it, but it didn’t budge. He twisted it again, with more force, but the door wouldn’t open.

“What the fuck?” Jongho muttered under his breath. He could only think of one person who would do this to him and have the courage to face him afterwards.  “Mingi! Open the door.” He pounded on the door with his fist. “It’s not funny.”   


Less than a minute later, the sound of footsteps reached Jongho’s ears. The door opened and almost slammed in his face.   


“Dude!” he screamed, crawling away from the door.

“What are you doing on the ground?” Mingi asked.   


“I can’t walk,” Jongho growled.   


“What?” Mingi stood there with his hand still on the door handle.   


“I can’t walk.” Jongho raised his arms in exasperation. “I can’t feel my legs.”    


Mingi shifted on his feet and ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, okay.” He closed the door. Then opened it. Then closed it again. “Let’s not panic here.”   


“You’re the one panicking!”    


“I was talking to myself!”   


“Whatever,” Jongho whispered, holding out a hand. “Help me up.”

“Oh, right.”

Mingi scrambled to grab Jongho’s hand, and dragged him to his bed.

“Okay, you stay here and I’ll call the manager,” Mingi said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.   


“There’s no signal,” he said after a few moments.   


Jongho felt blood drain from his face and rush to his head at the same time. “Are you fucking kidding me? How?”   


Mingi shrugged. “I don’t know.”   


“Give me my phone. I’ll just get a damn taxi.”

Mingi grabbed Jongho’s phone from across the room, unplugging it from its charger. He unblocked it to check the signal status.   


“There’s no signal on your phone either,” he said as he handed Jongho the phone.   


“How the fuck is that possible?” Jongho’s voice raised in volume with each word. “We’re not in the middle of a fucking desert.”   


“Calm down, we’ll figure something out.”   


“I can’t calm down. I can’t feel half of my body. How do you expect me to calm down?”   


“You were the one saying I was the one panicking a few minutes ago.”   


“Well I take it back! I’m the one panicking now. What if I’m paralyzed for life?”   


Mingi sighed. “You’re not,” he said patiently.   


“You don’t know that.” Jongho poked a finger in Mingi’s chest. “You’re not a doctor.”   


“You’re not a doctor either, so quit jumping to conclusions.”   


“I can’t exactly jump in this situation,” Jongho said, resting his chin on his hand.   


It was Mingi’s turn to roll his eyes. “Shut up. I’ll go out and hail a taxi. I’ll come get you later.”

Jongho nodded as Mingi left the room. He busied himself with his phone, fiddling with the settings in hope of getting a signal, but nothing happened. He glanced down at his legs and let his phone drop on his knees. He winced despite not feeling anything.   


“I think we have a problem,” Mingi said, startling Jongho. He was standing in the doorframe.

“What?”    


Mingi’s was face three shades paler than normal. “The front door is locked.”

Jongho frowned at him. “Then unlock it,” he said as if he was explaining that water was wet.   


Mingi shook his head. “I can’t. The key won’t turn. It’s like someone locked it from outside and left the key in.”   


“What the fuck.” Jongho shared a look with Mingi. “It’s like the bedroom door. It wouldn’t open either.”

“Is that why you were pounding on it?”   


“Yeah,” Jongho said. “Maybe it’s only locked from the inside. You managed to open the bedroom door, didn’t you?” Mingi nodded slowly. “What if we try to open the  front door from the outside?”   


Mingi raised his eyebrows.“And how are we supposed to do that?”   


“You could climb out of the fire escape and come back inside through the front door.”

“That’s… actually a good idea.”

Mingi ran out of the bedroom again. This time, Jongho could see him try to open the window that was right across his room. Mingi struggled with it for a full minute before running to another window. Then another. And another. Until he came back to Jongho with wide eyes and a pale face. His face was starting to glisten with sweat and his hands were trembling.   


“The windows won’t open,” he said. “Something’s wrong,”

Then his knees buckled and he lay unconscious on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i have no idea what im doing  
2\. this chapter was way longer than expected, but these days i cant seem to write anything that doesnt make the fic at least 50% longer  
3\. the plot thickens i guess? °-°  
4\. this is turning into crack. it wasnt supposed to though, i promise


End file.
